


Winchester Mornings

by jsymo



Series: Breifs [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Breakfast, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy!Sam, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Mornings, Parenthood, daddy!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsymo/pseuds/jsymo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam enjoys a lazy Sunday morning with his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winchester Mornings

Sam rolled around in the bed, currently being warmed by the rays of sunshine leaking through the curtains on the window of his and Dean’s bedroom. He rolled over onto Dean’s side, which was unsurprisingly empty as his feet tangled in the covers that were at the foot of the bed. 

His arms moved up slowly to capture the pillow Dean had been sleeping on and he dragged it to bury his face in it. He could smell the shampoo he used and the left-over cologne that Dean wore because he knew that Sam loved it, and he cracked a smile. 

He was content to just lie in bed, smelling the left-over scent that was Dean, and drift off back to sleep. 

Life however was clawing at his bedroom door, and he wasn’t about to turn it away for a second.

He heard his door creak open and the slight noise as fabric was dragged by on the carpet which solidified exactly who it was creeping into his bedroom. Not that he ever needed to guess. Early on weekday mornings his oldest always roamed into his and Dean’s bedroom to snuggle before breakfast.

 

He waited until he could feel bright blue eyes staring at his sleeping face, and then he let his eyes open with a smile. 

Sam was looking back at his four year old, Matthew. Light blonde hair was sticking in different directions and chubby pink lips were pouting at Sam.

Matthew held his arms up at the edge of the bed, his right hand fisted around the green blanket that he tugged around everywhere with him. 

Sam smiled and reached down to grip Matthew under his armpits to hoist him into the bed. Matthew folded himself on top of the mattress and scooted until he was pressed up against his chest and Sam could feel the young boy’s spit sticky fingers as they moved against his neck when Matthew went to suck on his thumb.

Matthew had sucked his thumb since Dean resolved to wean their son off pacifiers when they misplaced that last pacifier. Sam had been apprehensive, he was totally the caver in their parenting partnership, but he had been surprised when no tears were shed and the two year old had simple adapted, sticking the thumb of the same hand that always held so tightly onto his blanket promptly into his mouth and drawing the same comfort from the appendage that he had found in all of his pacifiers.

Sam curled and arm under his son and held him close. The two of them were slowly drifting back to sleep when Sam smelled the tell-tale scent of what Dean was doing that morning.

He smiled. He could smell the biscuits and gravy and bacon flavored wake-up call that was wafting through the door Matthew had left open. Dean always made big breakfasts on the weekends. It was the only time that Sam was able to eat breakfast with his family, because during the week he was rushing off to get to his eight AM lectures while Dean got the kids up, and got Matthew ready for pre-school. 

Sam’s stomach woke up to the idea of food and coffee and so he shifted around on the bed to sit up, bringing his sleepy son up with him. 

Matthew’s free hand clung to Sam’s wrinkled sleep shirt as he scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood up cradling his son as Matthew’s small arms wrapped around his neck. 

He walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to spy on Dean in the kitchen.

His brother was currently at the stove, whisking a pan of sausage gravy humming quietly. Dean’s hair was ruffled and flat without his attempt to style it yet, and he was wearing his black grilling apron over his bare chest since he was currently frying up bacon. 

Dean had stopped sleeping in only boxers when they adopted Matthew, Dean’s strange way of acknowledging that he was a father and had to make life changes in order for his new son; so he was wearing a pair of Sam’s sweat pants. And he knew they were his sweat pants because they rode ridiculously low on Dean’s hips. 

He stepped forward, and peered over Dean’s shoulder, holding Matthew away from the possibility of being hit with hot bacon grease, and he propped his chin on Dean’s shoulder.

“Mornin’,” Sam drawled watching Dean’s wrist spinning in tight circles.

“Morning,” Dean said more awake before pecking Sam’s lips with a kiss. Sam could taste the coffee on his brother’s lips and decided to seek out a cup for himself. 

He was able to adjust the sleeping boy onto his hip as he poured himself a cup one-handed.

“Why are you wearing my pants,” Sam said after his first sip.

“GiGi couldn’t sleep last night. She was scared of the monster in her closet, so I was holding her last night in the rocker hoping to get her to fall back asleep,” Dean shrugged, “and she had an accident.”

Sam frowned. It wasn’t the first time their two year old daughter had had an accident at night, nor was it the first time that she had an accident on one of them. He was more or less concerned with her sudden fear of the dark space in her closet. 

“She up yet?” Sam took a few steps into the living room to check out the empty play pen that Dean usually sat her in if she woke up before he had finished breakfast.

“Nope,” Dean finally turned around and took in Matthew sleep drunk in Sam’s arms. “Here, hand the lump over,” Dean made gestures with his hands for Sam to give Matthew to him.

“Hey Mattie,” Dean cooed when he finally had his hands on the boy, “why are you still sleeping?”

Matthew opened his eyes and finally noticed that he had been transferred from one father to the other.

“Mrnin’ Daddee,” he grumbled.

“C’mon bud,” Dean rubbed his hand over the four year olds back to stimulate him to wake. “If you help me with breakfast I’ll let you have chocolate milk.”

Matthew brought his head up quickly and blinked away rapidly meeting Dean’s green eyes with his blue, assessing whether or not his older father was lying to him. 

“M’kay,” Matthew struggled against his hold to get down on the floor as Dean grabbed the young boy’s cooking apron and Sam turned around to grab the footstool that they used whenever Matthew wanted to help in the kitchen.

When he turned back around he had to hold in his laugh as he saw Matthew tearing off his transformer pajama top and crouching down to fold the shirt on the floor with the accuracy and concentration only four year olds had. 

Dean turned around and smiled, and caught eyes with Sam before they both looked down together.

“Matthew, why’d you take your shirt off?” Sam asked still holding the footstool.

“Daddy is’t wearing one,” he reasoned back. 

He shrugged his shoulders at that. Matthew had been trying very hard lately to be just like his older father, and it caused Sam no shortage of entertainment or enjoyment to watch as Dean walked by with his little miniature following him around the house.

He placed the footstool on the floor by the stove and walked out to gather their daughter for breakfast. 

Maggie’s room was at the end of the hall, straight across from his and Dean’s room. He opened the door slowly in case she was still sleeping, but wasn’t surprised when he saw the toddler holding onto the side of her crib and bouncing up and down wildly, smiling behind her pacifier and emitting a high pitched squeal as Sam crossed the floor to pick her up.

“Good morning princess,” Sam said as he lifted the girl from her crib.

Magdalena was their two year old and was always thrumming with energy. Even now as he held her in his arms she was bouncing up and down, though her large brown doe eyes were trained on Sam’s face. 

He held her up high by her sides and lifted her sleep shirt with his nose so that he could blow raspberries onto her stomach. 

She erupted in a fit of baby giggles which caused her to release the pacifier that had been in her mouth which hit Sam’s head. 

He brought her over to her changing table and had to hold the squirmy toddler down so he could change her diaper. Clean and dry. Just the way he liked it.

Normally Sam would be changing her into clothes, but on weekends he and Dean allowed the kids, and themselves, to roam around the house in their pajamas until noon. It was their way of making up for all of those mornings where they had to race out of motel rooms before check out time.

He put Maggie down and held her hand as she walked by herself into the kitchen. She was pretty solid on her feet, but would take off like a car with no breaks if he didn’t hold her back, and since Dean was cooking he didn’t want her barreling into the kitchen.

When they rounded the corner he saw Dean and Matthew, shirtless and wearing aprons, both stirring the same pan of gravy Dean had been mixing before. He had no doubts that it was totally ready, but he also knew that it was highly unlikely for Dean to make his son feel useless in the kitchen. 

Dean heard their approach and turned the stove off, dumping his and Matthew’s utensils in the sink.

Matthew turned around and positively beamed at his little sister. “Chichi!” he shouted as he slid off of the stool.

Matthew had taken to Dean’s nickname for the little girl, though he couldn’t quite get the sound right. 

Maggie pulled from Sam’s hand to fling herself at her older brother “Bubby!” she cried, always happy to see her older brother.

They were like this all the time, always greeting each other with their names for one another and racing into hugs as if they hadn’t seen one another in years. Even though they always snuggled one another for at least half an hour before bed time and always exchanged good night kisses. 

“You gotta kiss me ChiChi,” Matthew told the toddler who was plastered to him “I ‘da cook.”

Sam rolled his eyes and scowled at Dean. His brother wasn’t looking at him however, just smiling at his kids as he moved everything to their kitchen table.

Maddie bounced up and down and puckered her lips for Matthew who bent down and kissed his little sister. 

Sam and Dean had both been relieved at Matthew’s reaction to them adopting Maggie. They weren’t sure how the three year old would react to having a younger sister, but were happily surprised to find out that he was just as affectionate and protective of the little girl as a typical older brother would have been. 

Dean picked up Maggie, pulling her from her older brother, placing a kiss to her pudgy toddler cheeks and bringing her to the table to be set in her high chair. 

Sam did the same thing with Matthew, putting the four year old in his booster seat before sitting at his own placement.

He didn’t miss the tall glass of chocolate milk that replaced Matthew’s usual sippy-cup of apple juice and regarded Dean with a raised eyebrow.

Dean caught Sam’s look as he fixed a bib around Maggie neck.

“What?” his voice didn’t seem surprised, “only big boys get to help with breakfast. And big boys don’t use sippy-cups. Ain’t that right Mattie?”

“Right!” Matthew reached out and slowly picked up the large glass with both hands. He brought it to his lips and hesitantly tilted it toward his mouth until he could drink.

Sam watched, wanting so badly to grab the cup from his son, but not doing so because he was doing a surprisingly good job at drinking on his own. 

When Matthew put the glass down he sighed in appreciation and smiled a chocolate-milk-mustached-grin at both of his fathers.

“Good job Mattie!” Dean cheered as he was cutting up a plate of food before placing it in front of Maggie who immediately smashed her chubby fingers into the mess of lukewarm gravy on her plate and began licking her fingers.

Dean only smiled and drank his coffee before joining the rest of his family for Sunday breakfast.

It was a quiet breakfast, interrupted only by Maggie’s giggles as Dean tried to keep up with the mess she was determined to keep on her face, and Matthew asking when they were going to do that day.

It was with a strange sort of happiness that Sam told his son nothing. That they had absolutely nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see on that particular lazy Sunday. Just him and his family. Just the way he liked it.


End file.
